


The New Assistant

by f0rever15elf



Category: Bloodsucking Bastards (2015)
Genre: Drunk Reader, F/M, Food mention, Pedro Pascal - Freeform, Swearing, alcohol mention, death mention, lots of inuendo
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-01
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-14 07:56:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 18,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29788833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/f0rever15elf/pseuds/f0rever15elf
Summary: A new job has you up an moved cross-country into the freakiest apartment you’ve ever seen. As the days pass at your new job, your new boss Max Phillips finds himself getting rapidly attached to you, unfolding the mysteries of you and your unsettling abode.
Relationships: Max Phillips/Reader, Max Phillips/You
Comments: 7
Kudos: 18





	1. The New Assistant

The move was sudden. Unexpected. Brought about by an unfortunate turnabout of circumstance that resulted in the loss of your old home with barely two suitcases and $200 to your name. It saw you moving across the country, to a potential new job and to the only place you could find that didn’t require a security deposit or first and last month’s rent upfront.

That should have been your first clue.

The day you arrive, your whole life in two suitcases and a purse, the vibe is off. You can’t explain it, but even just standing outside the building you’re about to call home makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. You feel eyes on you, though you can’t make out anyone looking at you from where you are. Brushing it off as move-in jitters, you make your way in and up to the front desk, handing over the signed paperwork in exchange for your keys. The woman behind the counter settling everything is oddly… placid. Her voice is quiet, and it sounds more like she’s reading from a script than anything. At your questions, she just giggles softly, without inflection, like she isn’t really hearing you.

That should have been your second clue.

Severely weirded out, you take your keys and make your way up the stairs to room 312. It’s small, a studio, but at least it’s a roof over your head that you can afford for now. And it’s furnished, which is a big plus for someone with no money to buy furniture or even an air mattress. Setting your bags by the bed, you take a look outside. The windows are oddly dark, you notice, but you just shape it up to the tinting being used to cut down on AC costs or something. Who knows, maybe the owners here are real cheap. Though, that doesn’t exactly line up with the whole “no security deposit” thing. With a shake of your head, you plop down on the bed, trying not to think too hard about it. At least the bed is softer than the benches you had slept on the past couple of nights.

The rest of the day is quiet, no movement to be heard out in the halls, which is rather odd, but you just assume that everyone is working. When the sun sets, however, the building seems to come alive. You can hear the music and laughter from the other side of the wall and from the floor below. Doors open and close non-stop. It’s like everyone had been waiting for the sun to go down….

That should have been your third clue.

Come the next morning, the building is quiet again as you don the only business casual outfit you own in preparation for your interview at the sales company not too far from your new place. Just a bus stop over, in fact. Which is the most convenient thing to happen to you in… well… a long time. With a sigh, you fix your hair in the mirror, slapping on a coat of the dollar store lip lacquer that was on its last legs. With a final pop of your lips, you grab your purse and head out, locking the door behind you.

The complex is… eerily quiet again, just as it was when you arrived yesterday. That girl is still at the front desk, eyes glazed over and distant as she sways in her chair behind the desk. Your brow furrows at that, and you make haste to leave the building, oblivious to the eyes watching you from the shadowed corners of the lobby in your desperation to leave.

The bus ride is a short one, and you soon find yourself standing before the double doors of your potential new place of employment. It’s your standard office building, 20 or so stories with the reflective windows and everything. Scenes from _The Proposal_ flash through your mind and you grimace, hoping that if you _do_ get this job, that your boss would be nothing like Sandra Bullock’s character. You’d suck it up and deal with it if they are, but a girl can hope, right?

Clutching your purse tighter, you make your way in and up to the 13th floor as directed, only to be met with an eerily dim communal office space filled with the quiet clicking of keys and murmured conversations over headsets as the employees swindle unwitting customers out of their money in a totally legal yet morally grey operation. Several eyes turn to you before refocusing on their work, leaving you loitering by the elevator, unsure of where to go next.

“Right on time!” You jump at the voice suddenly next to you, turning to be met with a very handsome face, smiling at you like he’s ready to sell you the clothes on your own back. His eyes are a brilliant brown, his matching hair cropped short. You take a startled step back, trying to put some space between you and the sharply dressed man now at your side. “That’s a good sign. Telltale of an excellent employee with a fantastic work ethic!”

It’s an act. It’s all an act, you can tell, a businessman through and through. Squaring your shoulders, you hold out your hand with a smile, offering your name as you play your own part. The man returns the handshake, his hand cold and grip firm. “It’s a pleasure. I’m here for my interview for the assistant position.”

“Straight to the point, I like that.” He wags his finger at you with a smile, turning to head to a separated office. “Please, step into my office and let’s get down to business.” Following after him, you take your seat in front of his desk, crossing your legs as you pull out a small notepad and pen you have tucked in your purse. “And prepared! You’ve done nothing but impress me so far. Already shaping up to be excellent assistant material.”

“Thank you, Mr. Phillips,” you respond with a polite smile.

“And observant! Reading the plaque before I give you my name, you’ve done this before, haven’t you? But please, call me Max. After all, I prefer all of us here to work as friends, you know.” Those sharp brown eyes look you up and down, not even attempting to be subtle as he takes in your figure. “All the cogs turning together, like a clock. Everything has to be well oiled to keep running at maximum efficiency. And that is your job, as an assistant. To make sure everything stays well oiled. Are you tracking?” He leans back in his chair, propping his feet up on his desk as he grabs the foam globe off the top of it, tossing it up into the air.

“I am. It sounds manageable enough.”

“That’s what I like to hear. When can you start?”

You blink, taken aback at the suddenness of the question. “Excuse me?”

“When can you start? If you say today, we can get you over to HR and have the paperwork filed by close of business. You’ll get a full two weeks worth of pay come payday. What d’ ya say?” He grins, holding his hands up in question. “You gonna join the team?”

This is too good to be true, but at the moment, desperation wins out above all else, and you nod, snapping your notepad closed. “I can start today, Max.”

“Great!” He hops up from his desk, coming around to meet you with his hand extended, fake smile well in place. “Welcome to the team! As soon as you’re done with HR, come back here and I’ll get you on your first assignment. We’ve got lots to do.” He flashes you a wink that makes your heart flutter, and you have to remind yourself that this is all an act as he ushers you to HR’s office.

Later that day, when 5 o’clock finally hits, Max walks you to the door, chatting with you about your first day. “I expect great things from you, you know! I can already tell that here is where you are going to absolutely _excel._ ”

You flash him a smile at his words, knowing that little to no truth lies in them. Most things about Max seem fake or contrived, and his praise of you is right up there with it, you’re sure. He’s telling you what you want to hear, what he knows will keep you under his thumb as his employee, turning out good work for him whenever he asks. But you play along, needing this job. “Thank you, Max. I’m looking forward to seeing where the company will take me.”

“That’s the spirit, sweetcheeks!” You try to keep from grimacing at the nickname, not even remotely a fan of it as you pause by the door. “I’ll see you here tomorrow at 7 a.m. sharp for your first full day!” With that, he pats your arm and offers you a wink before turning on his heel and striding through the lobby, whistling as he goes. You scoff softly, and with a shake of your head, make your way back out the door to the bus stop to head home.

The building is just starting to wake up when you arrive, it seems, a new girl behind the counter with the same glazed over expression on her face as the one from this morning. This time, the lobby isn’t empty, two figures leaning against the counter as you walk past. Their conversation stops, eyes following you as you hurry past, trying to ignore every fiber of your being telling you to run right back out that front door. It isn’t until the door to your apartment shuts behind you and the deadbolt slides home that you let out the breath you didn’t realize you had been holding. Something was off about those two, something major, but you can’t put your finger on it.

Deciding it best to shake off the fear, you quickly toss your clothes in the washer, thankful that this little studio came with the washer and dryer, even if they were small. At least that was money you didn’t have to spend until the water bill came.

It doesn’t take long for the music to start up after you get home, that same thrumming base through your wall adding to the headache slowly blooming from the lack of food you’ve had today. So, to stave off both that and the grumbling of your empty stomach, you head to bed as soon as you toss the clothes into the dryer, hoping that tomorrow you can snag a piece of the fruit you saw out in the break room today. It’ll be good to have something other than the meal bars you’ve been eating for almost two weeks now.

Back at the office, Max sits with his feet up on his desk, lost in thought as the night crew works quietly outside. Something about you just isn’t adding up to him. Dollar store fragrance and a worn looking blouse and beat up flats, not an iota of jewelry, and a purse that had definitely seen better days. You looked like you had fallen on hard times, but held your head up as if the world was hunky dory. But that isn’t what bothers him the most. No, that would be the stench that clung to you. Death. Under that dollar store fragrance that burnt his nose, was the smell of death. But if the sound of your heart in your chest and the smell of the blood in your veins was anything to go by, you were still very much alive. So why then, did you reek of the grave? He has some sleuthing to do.

The next morning is the same; quiet as the grave while you prep yourself in the same getup as before, hoping against all hope that no one would really notice the reused outfit. Maybe if you change your hair a bit, that would distract enough. A coat of gloss and a pop of your lips and you’re out the door, your head down. In your rush, you don’t notice the figure making his way down the hall, bumping shoulders with him hard enough to cause you to stagger as you regain your balance.

“I’m so sorry!” you squeak, looking up at the looming stranger you’ve just barreled into.

“Eyes up, bloodbag,” he hisses, glaring down at you with eyes hard as flint. For a moment, you swear you catch a flash of yellow before he turns, ducking into the door across from yours. A shiver runs down your spine, your heart racing in your chest as you turn and all but run from the building to the bus stop. The whole time you wait for the bus, you keep throwing anxious glances back over your shoulder, eyes scanning the windows as the feeling of being watched never really goes away. The hiss of the bus doors is a welcome relief as you make your way to your first full day of work.

As the doors of the elevator slide open, you’re greeted with Max’s salesman smile as he’s making his rounds. “Theeerrreeee she is! Early, too!” He makes his way to you, clapping his hand on your shoulder hard enough to jostle you. “You know, first impressions are everything, toots!” You offer him a smile, nodding as you smooth your skirt back down.

“Yes Max. It wouldn’t do to be late on my first official full day.” You clear your throat, gripping your purse strap tightly as you do your best to focus, suppressing the image of those yellow eyes that keep flashing to the front of your thoughts. “I’ll head to my office and get right to work. I’m organizing the schedule for the next two weeks today, and with the upcoming presentations you spoke about yesterday, it’s going to be quite the balancing act.” You give him a polite smile, stepping back from him. “If you’ll excuse me.”

“Oh, sure, sure! Can’t distract my assistant, now can I? Go, go,” he shoos you down the hall. “Impress me!” He watches you as you go with that same grin on his face until the door to your office shuts and his façade drops. “Andrew,” he calls, the man appearing at his side in an instant. “Find me everything you can on her. Past addresses, social media, dating apps. Everything.”

“I’m assuming you smell it too, sir?” Andrew asks, hands behind his back.

“Oh yes. She absolutely reeks. So either she’s screwing a member of the undead, or she’s somewhere a fleshie like her shouldn’t be. And it would be a damn shame to lose a fine assistant like her so quickly.” Andrew nods, but doesn’t move. That is, until Max turns to look at him, eyebrow raised, and as quickly as he appeared, Andrew’s gone and the fake smile is back on Max’s face. “Tim! Hey buddy! How’re those numbers today, champ?” No rest for the wicked.

The day passes in a blur. Max has a quite frankly inhuman amount of meetings in the next two weeks with all sorts of companies, all looking to have their designs peddled through his successful business front. The best numbers in the region earns him the well deserved attention. Before you know it, the lunch hour is rolling around and you’re still neck deep in sorting through events and deadlines when there’s a knock at your door. “Come in,” you mutter, not looking up until the cleared throat draws your attention. You glance up, seeing your boss leaning against your doorframe with his hands in his pockets and a lopsided smirk on his face. “M-Max! I’m sorry, that was rude of me.” You hop up, smoothing your skirt once again and Max begins to wonder if it’s a nervous tick of yours.

“It’s lunch time. You hungry?” he asks, almost too politely. You open your mouth to answer, but your growling stomach answers for you, causing you to chuckle nervously as Max watches you with amusement clear on his face.

“Yeah, I could eat. Forgot to eat breakfast this morning on my way out.” Well… less forgot, more ‘didn’t have anything to eat in the apartment.’ But he doesn’t need to know that.

“That’s the most important meal of the day, sweetcheeks, you can’t be skipping it,” he tuts, shaking his head. “I have a little tradition of taking the new recruits out for lunch on their first day. Call it team building time, all on the company dollar. I’d ask if you’re interested, but your stomach answered the question for you already.” He grins impishly and you feel your face heat up, knowing he’s right. When was the last time you had a proper meal?

“Uhm… that sounds nice.” You grab your purse off of the back of your chair, walking around to the front of your desk. “Thank you.”

“Don’t even worry about it. Like I said, team building. It’s good for the company!” He claps your shoulder again and you offer him a small smile. “We’ll take my car. I know this amazing sushi place. You like sushi?” You give him a nod, following along as best you can with his long, quick strides. “Great, you’re gonna love it here then.”

It doesn’t take long to get there, the whole ride filled with Max’s prattlings of how amazing this place is going to be. It isn’t until the both of you are seated in a restaurant that feels _far_ too fancy for a simple company lunch that he finally quiets down enough for you to speak. “So, sweetcheeks, tell me about yourself.“ His smile is coy as he sits back in his chair, hand resting next to his water glass as he eyes you up and down.

“What do you want to know?” You lay your napkin in your lap, fiddling with it nervously as you sit under your boss’ stare. You have to admit he’s handsome, but the cocky frat-boy attitude and fake smile is rather grating.

“Where are you from?”

“The other side of the country,” you offer, eyes darting around the room. “I just moved here two days ago.”

“And jumped right into work. I like that work ethic!” He leans forward, playing at being intrigued. “Family?”

You shake your head, swallowing thickly. “None. None who matter, anyways. It’s just me, myself, and I.”

“Awe, that’s too bad.” He shakes his head, still appraising you, every little action a tell of what you’ve experienced in this world. “What do you like to do, eh? You a sports fan?”

“Uhm, not exactly. I used to watch baseball with my old man, but that stopped a long time ago. I usually just read.” Until your entire book collection went up in smoke, that is. You take a sip of water at the bitter memory, trying to wash it away.

“You go out?” You focus in on him at the odd question, brow pinched slightly. “To bars. You know, have a good time, unwind.” He winks. “Take a cute guy home to absolutely _rail_ you?”

You splutter at that, thankful you didn’t have any water in your mouth as you’re sure that would have resulted in a spit take. “ _Max!”_ you very nearly hiss. “I hardly think that’s an appropriate topic to discuss with my boss!”

“So you don’t, then.” He seems not to have heard you, or is very pointedly ignoring you as he sits back with a smirk. “Maybe it’s cause you’ve already got a boo back at home to rail you into next week?”

“No!” you snap, much more harshly than you intend before tossing the napkin on the table and standing up. “I’ll be back in a moment,” you grit out, storming away to find the bathroom. The absolute _nerve_ of that man. Where does he get off on asking you something so invasive?

Back at the table, Max watches you go, his lips tugging down from that self-gratifying smirk to a frown. Well, that answers the screwing a vampire question. So, what else could it be then? He needs to change gears, switch tactics so he doesn’t scare you off before he gets the answers he needs from you. But it’s at that moment that a question bubbles up in his mind. Why does he care?

“Well that’s cause good assistants are hard to come by these days,” he reasons with himself, nodding. That’s definitely it. No other reason.

When you return from cooling down, the food has arrived, and you both tuck in, taking note that Max has politely waited for you before eating. “So,” he begins and you tense up, expecting another question about your sex life. “How do you take your coffee?” he points at you with his chopsticks. “And know that I _will_ judge you for this answer,” he adds with a grin.

“Oh, uh… usually just… black with a little sugar.” Never mind that it was usually the 90 cent coffees from whatever truck stop or gas station you happened to be by. “Never really had much else.”

“Well, we’ll need to change that. There’s a great place just down the street from here that I would have the interns get my coffee from in the mornings. Now that you’re my assistant, you could run the order in the morning on your way in. You get whatever you want on the company dime!” He offers you a grin, decidedly pleased with himself for being so generous, but your heart sinks.

“Mr. Phillips-”

“Max.” He cuts you off.

“…Max. I live in the opposite direction and take public transit. I can’t make it to the coffee shop and to work on time via the bus.” You set your chopsticks down and wipe your mouth. “As much as I enjoy the idea of free coffee, it’s just not logical. You’re better off getting one of those $40 espresso machines with a milk frother for the office if you want me handling the coffee.”

“Well, we might just do that! Hide it in your office so Evan and Tim can’t break it.” He winks again, offering you a grin.

“If you think so, sir.”

The rest of lunch is uneventful, harmless small talk questions exchanged which reveal next to no information about you, much to Max’s chagrin, before the two of you need to return to work. When you arrive, you thank him for lunch before promptly sealing yourself in your office again to get the scheduling finished before close, Max returning to his own office. There were some reports that he needed to review.

When five rolls around and he hears you stirring in your office, he moves to park himself in his doorway, watching the few humans left in the office slowly trickle out as he waits for your door to open. As it does, he plasters that textbook smile on his face once more, nodding to you as you turn to lock the office. “Goodnight, Max,” you offer him politely, and he’s almost taken aback at the kindness in your voice. It isn’t often people speak to him like that. There’s a twinge in his chest that it causes that he quickly brushes off, not wanting to think too much about it. 

“Goodnight. Get home safe.” The smile on your lips is genuine as you nod, stepping into the break room to grab an orange before making your way to the elevator, throwing him a wave as the doors close. “What a woman,” he mutters, eyes still on the doors. “Andrew!” he snaps, the man appearing at his side once more. “What’s the word, champ?”

“Not much. Virtually no social media presence. She appeared on LinkedIn, but that’s it. No address listed, and her mailing address is a P.O. Box. Family history is shaky to follow at best, but it looks like most family members, save her brother, are deceased.” Max nods as he listens. You’re a ghost, is what he’s hearing. No one to miss you if you disappear. In this city… that is a dangerous thing.

“Thanks buddy. Keep digging and let me know if you find anything else.” Andrew nods, vanishing once again, leaving Max leaning in his doorway. He’d figure you out, one way or another.

As the bus pulls to your stop, you fight the urge to remain seated, fear starting to course through your veins again. This is ridiculous, you shouldn’t be afraid to go home. With a sigh, you stand and disembark. That first girl is back again, this time tossing you a lazy wave as you walk past, which you return. The lobby is empty, but that feeling of being watched is as strong as ever, the hairs on the back of your neck standing up.

You all but sprint up the stairs and down the hallway, slipping inside your home as you hear the door across from you open. You slide the deadbolt home with a shaking hand, jumping when there’s a knock. Don’t open it. You know you shouldn’t open it. “Hey! 312! You dropped your wallet!” That’s the same voice from earlier, the man you bumped into this morning. You sift through your purse, your stomach dropping when you realize your wallet isn’t there and you must face this stranger. The deadbolt slides slowly open before you open the door just enough to poke your head out. “Be more careful,” he sneers, thrusting the wallet at you. “At this rate, you won’t make it to the month mark.” You swallow thickly as you take the wallet, thanking him in a squeaky voice before shutting the door and locking it again. Won’t make it to the month mark? What the hell does that mean?

And so the pattern continues. You dress in the same outfit in the morning, the gloss eventually running out, and all but sprint to the bus to avoid anyone in the lobby. The feeling of being watched is impossible to shake, and you begin to wonder just how paranoid your past has made you. At least now you’re slightly better fed with snagging snacks from the break room.

This morning, as you make your way past the communal office, Tim stops you with a call of your name. “We’re going out for drinks tonight! McFly’s! You down?” You blink, taken aback at the question. You’d only gotten to talk to Tim once or twice in the week you’ve worked here, but he seemed nice enough, even if he was a bit of slacker.

“Oh, I can’t….” Your wallet is sitting at $45, and you can’t blow that on over-priced, watered-down booze, as much as you would love the excuse to not go back to your apartment tonight.

“Awe come on,” he whines, spinning in his chair. The light on his headset is flashing red, clearly leaving a customer on hold. Another irritating habit of his.

“What’s going on here, slugger?” Max asks, seemingly appearing out of nowhere to lean over the office space wall, smiling at Tim who pales at the sight of his boss. “Bothering my assistant? She’s very busy, you know.”

“No, Max, he was just asking me to join you all for drinks tonight after work is all.” You intercept your boss, seeing how terrified Tim seems to be of him. You wonder for a moment what it is that Tim is so scared of. Max is a pervert, yeah, but he doesn’t strike you as the time to strike terror into the hearts of his employees. 

“Hey, now _there’s_ an idea! Office drinks! Count me in. And I’m assuming you’re coming?” Max asks you, and your heart kicks into overdrive.

“W-Well, I wasn’t planning on it, if I’m being honest.”

“Drinks are on me tonight. A welcome to the family! How’s that sound? Drinks on me!” The office cheers before snapping back to work in an almost robotic reaction as Max throws you a smile. “Well?”

“Well… I don’t see how I can turn that offer down. Sure, I’ll come. I’ll just need a ride.” You give him a smile, making to move past him.

“I got cha covered, toots! Now, go nail those quarterly reports!” You roll your eyes at his word choice, tossing a thank you back over your shoulder before you close your door.

As you take your seat and boot your computer, you can’t help but smile. Even in the short week you’ve known Max, and the very much frat-boy attitude he has about him, you can’t help but like him. He’s attractive, sure, but that’s not everything about him. He’s intimidating and in control, the kind of boss who knows what he wants. He pushes his employees, but not too hard, you don’t think. He’s a good boss, honestly, with good business sense and you think you can tell that beyond that hard exterior he puts on for work, that there’s a lot more to CEO Max Phillips than he’d like anyone to believe. For the briefest moment, the thought crosses your mind of what he might be like if you got to know him more personally, but you quickly chase it away. That would be an HR nightmare, and you’re not here for it.

The ding of your email pulls you from your trance and you groan, seeing the 48 unread emails waiting for you. “Seriously? It’s 7:05 in the morning, how do I already have this many emails?” You sigh, and knuckle down. Lots of work for today, it seems.

Back in his own office, Max has re-read the same line of this new merger contract with TelAmeriCorp at _least_ a dozen times before he sits back with a sigh. That smile you gave him as you walked past him was something else all together, and he’d be lying if he said you hadn’t been dancing around his thoughts for the past week. He’s been trying to convince himself that it’s just because he wants to make sure that no harm comes to his assistant because you’d be too hard to replace, but the longer this goes on, the less convincing it sounds to him.

That stench of death was still clinging to that same outfit you wore every day, and today you came in without lip gloss. A frown stretches his lips as he remembers you snagging food every time you leave the office, and he begins to wonder if times are much harder for you than you’re letting on. He rubs at his chin as he tries to reconcile why that would matter to him, only able to settle on the fact that you can’t perform at your best when you’re hungry. He’d need to make sure more snacks were available in the break room. That would be a good first step.

The day drags on, each tick of the clock loud as a gunshot in Max’s ears, and it takes every bit of self control he has to not rip the damn thing off the wall. When it finally strikes five, he’s already hovering in your doorway, waiting for you to finish the call you’re on with the head of logistics upstairs before turning to smile at him. He’s sure that if his heart still beat, it would beat right out of his chest at the sight. “You ready?” He asks, trying to play it cool, and you nod, quickly closing down your computer.

“You’re sure you don’t mind giving me a ride?”

“Not at all! A hot girl with a smokin’ ass in my car? What’s there to mind about that?” He tosses you that signature smirk and wink and you just roll your eyes, biting back a smile at the borderline praise.

“You’re an ass, Phillips,” you chide, locking the door behind you before walking with him to the elevator.

“You like this ass, though,” he quips, sure he’s got you with that one, only to be caught off-guard by your reply.

“It’s a little flat, honestly.” Your reply is cool, a smug grin on your lips as he stares at you with an open mouth. Before he can think up a retort, the doors open to the garage and you make your way out, a confidence in your stride.

“You wound me,” he pouts, opening the car door for you. “Though,” he tacks on as he hops in his side, “that means you’ve taken the time to look at my ass.” Heat floods your cheeks at that, the smug smirk withering. He can hear the blood racing in your veins at being caught, and he loves it. He loves that reaction of yours, always so endearing. “Don’t worry, our little secret.” He grins before tearing out of the garage.

Oh, you feel so out of place here. The music is already playing, bass pumping through the speakers as Max leads you to the corner table he’d reserved for the employees. A couple are already there, namely Andrew and Tim who are currently tossing the salt shaker back and forth, trying to see how little they can spill. “Hey there guys,” Max calls, smiling at the two and causing Tim to drop the salt spilling it everywhere and earning a giggle from you. Max lips twitch subtly at the sight before he tells Tim to clean up his mess. “After you,” he says to you, letting you slide into the booth first before he slides in beside you.

“So, Max, I know like, you said drinks were on you but what about snacks?” Tim asks, a nervousness in his voice that you’re confused about.

“You’re on your own for snacks, buddy,” he smiles. “Especially after that little salt mishap, yeah?” Your heart sinks a bit at that and you wonder if maybe you can just be a leftover vulture tonight, poaching fries or the occasional wing.

“Dang it,” Tim whines, sitting back before getting wrapped up in a conversation with Andrew about how the snacks in the vending machine have gotten substantially worse recently.

Noticing your frown, Max nudges your leg with his own. “What’s eatin’ you, sweetcheeks?” he ask quietly, and you shake your head. “C’mon now. We’re off the clock. Just two buddies chatting. What’s up?”

“I… erm….” You sigh, rubbing at your forehead. “I can’t… afford to buy dinner so just… get me a soda? I shouldn’t drink on an empty stomach.” The shame in your voice cuts through Max like a wooden stake and he blinks, not expecting you to be so upfront about the hard times he’d gathered you were facing.

“I got your meal ticket, toots. Order whatever you want.”

“But you just said-”

“I know what I said,” he interrupts. “I’m not buying Tim’s dinner, he’s a freeloader and a slacker. You can’t afford it and you’re busting your ass every day in the office, this’s different. I convinced you to come out, so it’s my treat. Besides, I wanna see you drunk and I can’t see that in good conscience if you haven’t had something to eat.” He nudges you playfully with his elbow, and you give him a beyond grateful smile. One so genuine that he thinks his heart might actually start beating again _just_ so he can have a heart attack.

“Thank you, Max. Really.”

“No problem,” he shrugs, looking away as he tries to play it cool.

It doesn’t take long for the rest of the office to show up and for the booze to start flowing. Max orders you some wings and cheese sticks before starting the rounds of shots, and as the night goes, the music grows louder and your inhibitions fall. You end up leaning against him at one point after a round of tequila shots, cackling at the joke Amanda just told. What was the joke? Oh hell, you don’t remember, but you know for damn sure that it was funny and that’s all that matters.

“Girl, you _cannot_ hold your liquor!” Amanda chuckles, sipping from her beer.

“Shuuuutttup,” you slur, pointing in her vague direction. You’d like to say that it’s just because you haven’t drank in a while, but that would be a lie. You’ve always been more of a light weight. But hey, that means more fun for less money, right?

“How’re you getting home?” Evan asks you, and Max has to resist the urge to tell him to shut his mouth as he brings his arm around you.

“I’m her ride,” Max asserts, earning a narrow-eyed look from Evan. Max meets it with his own glare, daring the man to say something. Evan eventually backs down, Max relaxing into the booth with you slumped against his side. “I should probably get her home before she’s too drunk to tell me where she lives,” he sighs, waving their server over to pay the tab and get a box for your food.

“We’re leaving?” you whine, flashing big, puppy dog eyes up at Max and his stomach flips at how he _knows_ if you use that look on him for damn near anything he wouldn’t be able to say no. Except for this. He needs to get you home safe. “But I’m having fun.” 

“We are. I got your food, now come on. I think maybe you’ve had a little too much fun.” He stands after signing the check and grabbing the box of leftovers, easing you from the booth as you wave to your coworkers who are all watching you with amused expressions. “You, little missy, are a handful,” Max teases as he wraps his arm around your waist to keep you from stumbling.

“I’m a joy,” you counter, focusing extremely hard on not falling, leaning heavily into Max’s side.

“I won’t disagree with you on that one. But maybe you go every other round next time if you wanna make it past 8:30.”

“Don’ make fun a meeeee,” you whine, smacking his chest, which only succeeds in earning a laugh from him.

“But you make it so easy!” He chuckles as he opens the door, helping you in before helping you get buckled. He rounds the car after, getting in and looking at you. “Now, you gonna tell me where you live, sweetcheeks? I don’t have telepathy, you know.”

“Don’t wanna,” you moan, rubbing at your nose.

“You need to go home,” he says more firmly, reaching over to take the hand that wasn’t just rubbing your nose. “Tell me where to take you.” When you look at him next, your eyes are glassy with tears, and he sees a very real fear in them. You squeeze his hand tightly, and his stomach falls to his feet. “Sweets… what’s wrong? Why do you look so afraid?” His voice is gentler now, concerned.

“My apartment. Scary,” you’re able to slur out, and his brow furrows with concern. “An’ so loud at night.”

“Sweetcheeks… where do you live?” It’s a demand now, and he’s not above compelling the answer out of you if you refuse to answer again. He has an inkling, the pieces falling into place, and he’s hoping to whatever God may exist that he’s wrong.

“Nueva Pointe,” you whimper. “312.” The steering wheel groans under the force of his grip, and the breathing he keeps up for appearances stops. No wonder you reek of death. Nueva Pointe…. The home to the biggest coven of vampires in the city. And you had stumbled your way in as a human. “Don’ wanna go….”

“Okay,” he sighs, willing himself to relax. “Okay, we won’t go. Not until you’re sober. I’ll take you back to my place. Is that okay?” He runs his thumb across your knuckles soothingly, letting out that breath when you nod. “Okay. That’s where we’ll go.”

It doesn’t take long for the motion of the car to soothe you to sleep, Max not bothering to wake you when he makes it home. Instead, he simply carries you inside and lays you on his bed after removing your shoes. He covers you with a blanket, tucking you in before stepping back to look at you. Nueva Pointe. Of all the places you could have ended up, Nueva Pointe. And as someone with no one to miss her… you’re exactly the type they want to see there. He counts backwards in his head, counting the days you’ve been here. Eight. Eight days. Meaning you had 22 left before they… decided what they were going to do with you. 22 days left to convince you to leave that place. 22 days left to save your life.

How the hell is he going to manage that?

When you first start to stir, the splitting ache in your head is what greets you, and you let out a groan as you dig the heels of your hands into your eyes to try and fight it off. That’s followed by a flip of your stomach that has you launching yourself out of the very, _very_ comfortable bed towards the lit bathroom, barely making it to the toilet in time to lose the few remaining contents of your stomach. When the dry heaving stops, you collapse, laying down on the tile that is cool against your feverish skin. Where the hell are you? Because this certainly isn’t your dingy little studio apartment.

“Hey.” The gentle voice from the doorway startles you, and you sit up far too quickly, your head spinning as you press your hand to your forehead. “Easy now. You had a lot to drink last night.” It’s Max, you realize, looking up to see him holding out a glass of water to you which you eagerly accept.

“I feel like shit,” you croak out, setting the now empty glass down on the floor as you look back up at your boss. It’s… odd seeing him so dressed down. A pair of light wash jeans and a v-neck t-shirt makes him look so… casually handsome.

“Not surprised. You were hammered when we left the bar.” The brief look of concern on his face quickly morphs to that frat boy smile. “Pretty much begged me to bring you back to my place.”

You roll your eyes, leaning against the wall. “Oh I’m _sure_ I begged my boss to take me back to his place. Because _that_ sounds like a smart move for my career.” You bring your hand back to your head, trying to massage away the ache to try and feel somewhat human again.

“Hey, I’m just relaying what you told me in your drunken stupor, sweetcheeks.” He watches you closely, and though his tone is playful, the same he uses in the office when he teases you, it masks a very genuine concern.

“Uh huh, sure.” You drop your hand with a sigh, closing your eyes and for a moment, it’s quiet. When you open them again, seeking him out, he catches the glimmer of concern in them. “… I’m sorry… if I acted out of line, last night. I can’t hold my liquor well. If I crossed any lines, I’m sorry. You can take me home so I can get out of your hair.” Max hears the way your heart speeds up at the thought of going home, and he wonders if maybe convincing you to move out of that literal hellhole will be easier than he originally thought.

“I don’t think you’re in any condition to be home alone right now, seeing as how you can barely walk.” The glare that gets him is positively murderous.

“I’m fine, Max. I’m a big girl and can take care of myself.” To prove your point, you begin to stand, ignoring the ringing in your ears and the way your stomach lurches. “See? I’m fine to g-” You cut yourself off as your legs give, still too shaky to stand. If not for Max being there, you would have hit the tile. Instead, you fall against his chest, his arms coming around you to hold you in place. Heat rushes to your cheeks as neither of you move, your heart pounding in your chest as your mind begins to run away with itself. 

Down girl.

“Why don’t you stay a little longer?” he asks quietly, reveling in your being so close to him. The smell of your apartment still lingers on you in the way a stale smoke clings to the hair of a smoker, but it’s fading, and good _Lord_ do you smell amazing. “You can take a shower and sleep off the hangover and we can go get some food before I take you home.” Max is an asshole and a brat at times, but he’s not a bad guy. Most of the time, anyways.

You close your eyes for a moment to try and stabilize yourself, trying to get your thoughts under control. He smells so _good_. It’s his cologne, you’re sure, a fragrance you’ve never smelt before and it borders on intoxicating. When Max says your name softly, something he rarely does, it snaps you from your trance and you look up at him with hazy eyes. “You don’t… mind?”

“Not at all. I’ll wash your clothes while you’re showering and you can borrow some of my stuff till they’re dry.” Where is this all coming from, he wonders. This overwhelming desire to just… _help_ you. This isn’t like him to be this open and willing to help. This isn’t like him at all. But then you smile at him. It’s a small but genuine smile that lights up your eyes and his breath catches in his throat. You’re so beautiful.

“Thank you, Max.”

He nods, dropping his arms from around you as he takes a step back. “Towels are in the cabinet by the shower. Call my name when you’re in and I’ll come get your clothes and leave you a change of things.” You smile and nod again and it takes every ounce of strength he has in him to not turn tail and make a bee line out of there, overwhelmed by whatever this feeling spreading through his chest is. Instead, he turns and quietly shuts the door behind him, moving on autopilot to grab you a pair of sweats and a t-shirt of his to change into when you got out.

His mind is far off, thinking about you and about how something as simple as your smile has him positively quaking. Thinking about how the thought of you going back to that vampire nest has him very nearly overcome with rage at the thought of other vampires eyeing you, followed by such an intense fear at the potential of losing you to them. He’s only known you a week, and unbeknownst to you, you have him wrapped around your little finger. Max Phillips is a goner, and he knows it. And he’s terrified. 

As the water cascades over your body, relieving the ache in your bones and the fog in your mind left by a night of drinking, your mind wanders to the man whose house you’re currently at. Your boss. Your very smart, very handsome, very kind boss. Not many people out there would look at you in the state you were in last night and choose to bring you back to their place to care for you instead of taking you home to suffer the consequences of your own actions. You distinctly remember telling him where you live, but after that, it’s all a blur, save for the briefest moment of being laid on the softest bed you’ve ever slept on. Your eyes had fluttered open just long enough to see Max watching you as he tucked you in, the softest expression on his face before you were pulled back into the blackness.

A frown tugs at the corners of your lips. You shouldn’t be thinking about Max like that. You’ve only known him a week, and every single sentence out of that beautiful mouth of his is something lewd or condescending. There’s no way you like him.

But then there’s how he held you just now when you fell against his chest; gentle but firm, refusing to let you fall. Or the way he looked at you when he first found you laying on the tile of his bathroom. Or all the ways he’s offered to take care of you today….

No. No, absolutely not. You _cannot_ get involved with your boss. It’s hugely inappropriate. Amanda would have your head on a pike for the HR nightmare you would be causing her. You’d be falling into the stereotypical Hollywood movie assistant role, fraternizing with your boss. Your name would be smeared around the company so quickly, rumors flying about how you were fucking your boss for a raise or some bullshit like that. The very thought leaves a bitter taste in your mouth and you resolve yourself then and there to not let any of this progress any further, no matter how warm you had felt in his embrace, even if he himself felt a little on the cool side.

As promised, when you finish your shower, there is a neatly folded stack of clothes waiting for your, your blouse and skirt missing. You towel off quickly and slip into the comfy clothing. They smell like him; that same scent that enveloped you when you fell against him. A fragrance that is absolutely impossible to place.

You quickly shake your head, snapping yourself out of whatever trace you managed to place yourself in before stepping back out of the bathroom, padding out to the rest of the house. It’s a decently sized place for one person, two other rooms off the main hallway, plus another bathroom that you pass on the way to the main part of the house. The hallway opens into the living room, where Max currently sits with a file open on the coffee table in front of him, a large packet of papers in his hand that he looks away from as you make your way to him. With a raised eyebrow, he sets the papers down.

“Thought you’d be crawling back into bed after your shower,” he notes, shifting over to allow you to sit down beside him. You accept, curling your legs up underneath you as you sit down. His scent clings to you, the smell of unfamiliar death finally gone for the first time since meeting you and he’s never met anyone who smells as sweet as you do.

“Not tired anymore.” You shrug your shoulders, picking at the hem of his shirt where the threads are coming loose. “Thanks for these. They’re comfy.”

“Sure thing, sweetcheeks,” he grins, turning just enough to face you. “Hungry?”

“No, I’m-” the growling of your stomach cuts you off, painting you a liar and Max just grins. “Erm…. Yeah. I am.”

“Let’s order something in, yeah? No point in going out right now.” He snags his phone from the coffee table, opening up a delivery app, you assume. “What ya in the mood for?”

“Max, you can’t keep pampering me like this. Really expensive sushi, buying me dinner and my drinks, letting me stay here…. You can’t keep doing this.” You’re looking away from him, eyes focusing anywhere but him, but you can feel that intense gaze on you all the same.

“I can’t take care of one of my employees?”

“That’s not what I mean,” you sigh, finally looking up at him only to be caught like a bird in the eyes of a snake, freezing up under the intensity of the frown on his face. Your heart speeds up, and you wonder if you’ve overstepped, but now is not the time for backing down. “You can’t give me special treatment. I don’t want any rumors around the office that I’m-”

“That you’re what?” he asks, an almost amused sound in his voice now.

“That… that I’m….” It sounds stupid now, the longer you go on with this. How would anyone know about any of this anyways? Why are you so scared of what other people would think about your relationship with Max? There isn’t one, plain and simple, so why would rumors matter?

“That you’re fucking me for a raise?” he quips, leaning in a bit closer. “That I’m favoring you to get my dick wet?”

“Y…Yeah,” you squeak out, very nearly breathless from how fast your heart is beating in your chest.

“Sweetcheeks, there are a few things I do not tolerate in my office. Favoritism based on anything other than shown skill, for one, and baseless rumors that smear any of my employees, for two.” He sits back, sprawling out on the couch with that grin on his face. “Now, _if_ you wanted me to absolutely rock your world, well, sweetcheeks I wouldn’t say no. But if you think that I’d start treating you special in the office because I’m tappin’ that,” he gestures to your body, causing a heat to flood your cheeks, the tips of your ears feeling like they’re actually on fire. “Well, that simply won’t be the case. Except maybe a quickie in my office from time to time.” He flashes you a wink, and you find yourself at a loss for words, your mouth hanging open.

You sit there in silence for an achingly long minute, fidgeting as his words sink in. He can smell it on you, just how his words affect you and he’d be lying if he said he didn’t want you to take his words about fucking you seriously. “I… but… but HR….” You’re grasping at straws now, and he can tell. There’s something about this whole situation that’s making you uncomfortable, and he’s going to keep digging until he can figure it out.

“As long as I keep Amanda at her current salary, and you gave a statement about keeping things on the down low in the office, it would be fine.” He taps his chin with his phone. “That last part might be hard if you’re screaming my name while I have you bent over my desk though.”

“ _Max!”_ you chide, staring at him wide-eyed. He grins before bursting out laughing, shaking his head.

“Oh sweets, you should see the look on your face right now.” He leans forward again, holding his phone out to you. “C’mon, order whatever you want. I’ll take you home after we eat.” Your eyes dip down to his phone before looking back up at him. “Go on, it’s not gonna bite you.” With a sigh, you finally relent, taking the phone.

Nearly two hours later, Max is pulling up in front of Nueva Pointe. He’s been uncharacteristically quiet on the drive over, any sexual quips that might usually occur notably absent. “I’ll walk you in,” he states with a finality that lets you know that this is a statement of fact, not an offer, so you make no move to deny it.

“Thank you, Max. For everything. Last night and today. It means a lot to me.”

“Not a problem, sweetcheeks. Let’s get you home.” He places his hand on the small of your back, guiding you inside, and for the first time in several days, you’re not afraid to enter your own complex.

There’s a new girl at the desk today, a scarf tied tightly around her neck and her eyes so glazed over that you hesitate. Max’s eyes follow your gaze and he tenses when he sees the girl, pressing more firmly on the small of your back to urge you forward. “Come on,” he urges quietly, leading you to the elevator. “312, right?” You nod, tearing your eyes from the girl at the front desk to follow along with Max. You’ve never seen him so tense, and you wonder what it is exactly that could be causing it.

As the doors to the elevator slide open on floor three, you gasp and press closer into Max’s side when you come face to face with the stranger from across the hall. Max’s arm wraps around you securely, holding you close to him. The stranger’s eyes scan you both before pushing his way past Max onto the elevator as the two of you step off, Max leading you quickly down the hall, stopping only once you’re in front of your door, attempting to unlock it with shaking hands. Eventually, he puts his hand over yours, helping to unlock it, and you’re grateful.

“Thank you,” you murmur once more. “I’ve run into that guy twice now…. He calls me bloodbag, whatever that means, and he scares the crap out of me.” You open your door stepping in with Max left in the hallway, still as tense as he was in the lobby. His eyes dart around what he can see of your little studio apartment, hands stuffed in his pockets. You glance back over your shoulder at the meager furnishing, but decide it would be rude to leave him out in the hallway. “You… can come in for a bit, if you want.” He looks back down at you, shoulders relaxing as he gives you a lopsided smirk, stepping inside. You close and lock the door behind him before walking over to the bed and taking a seat. “It’s nothing like your place, but it’s all I can afford. No deposit.” You shrug, looking up at him as he slowly wanders around.

“You always this scared to go home, sweetcheeks?” he asks as he pulls back the curtain enough to look outside.

“Not always…. If I can get back before the sun sets, it’s usually pretty quiet. It’s weird, it’s like the whole building wakes up as soon as the sun goes down.” The look Max throws you over his shoulder has you worried. “What?”

He sighs as he comes to sit down beside you, and you can tell he’s trying to choose his words very carefully. “I don’t like that you’re here alone. I have a bad feeling about this place.”

“I have nowhere else to go Max.” Your brow furrows, turning to face him. “Besides, I told you I can take care of myself.”

“I know, I know. Let’s carpool to work. To and from.”

“You live on the other side of the office, it would be too out of the way. I can’t ask you to do that.”

“You’re not asking. I am.” He has you there. You take your bottom lip between your teeth, thinking over the proposition. “I’ll come to your door at 6:35 every morning, and I’ll walk you to your door after work.”

“Max, that’s too much.”

“I don’t trust tall, dark, and creepy, sweets.” His tone is serious as he reaches out to take your hand. “Look, this isn’t special treatment. This is me being concerned about one of my employees, and doing what I can to help.”

“I didn’t peg you as the type,” you joke, trying to lighten the mood, but when he doesn’t react, you swallow thickly. “Sorry, I just…. I know I’ve only worked for you for a week, but I didn’t get as good as I am at what I do by being unobservant. You don’t treat _anyone_ in the office the way you treat me. You treat Evan objectively _worse_ than everyone, and I’m sure there’s a story there.” At that, Max rolls his eyes. “But I’m not oblivious, Phillips. I can’t afford to be. Being oblivious means you mess up, and I _can’t_ mess up. I _need_ this job.”

When you finally stop rambling, Max sighs, the irony in your words far from lost on him. “Look, sweets. I make the rules at that company. I decide who stays, and who goes. No one else. You aren’t at risk of losing your job there so long as you stay on top of things. Which I don’t expect to be a problem for you.” You shake your head frantically. “Good. So, you have nothing to worry about. Let me do this for you.”

“… You aren’t actually asking, are you?”

“Absolutely not. I’ll be here on Monday whether you tell me to be, or not.”

You can’t help the way your lip quirks up just a bit at that, and you can’t deny that the concern makes you feel… wanted. “Well, since you’re so insistent… I’ll see you Monday morning, then.”

“It’s a date,” Max winks, suppressing a snicker at the sound of your heart speeding up in your chest. “I’m kidding, sweets.” He smacks his knees before standing back up, stuffing his hands back in his pockets. “I’ll get out of your hair, let you rest up from yesterday.” He flashes you his signature smirk before making his way to the door to let himself out.

On a rash impulse, you launch yourself from the bed, slamming into his back as you wrap your arms around his midsection, burying your face in his back. Decorum be damned, he needs to know how grateful you are for his help. “Thank you, Max. Really.” The words are muffled, but he hears them loud and clear, freezing for a moment as he tries to figure out how to react. After a moment, he carefully moves your arms from his waist, turning around to return the hug.

“You’re welcome, sweets.” His voice is gentle, devoid of any of the mocking playfulness usually present, and you know at that moment that this relationship is far more than a boss/employee one, no matter how much both of you try to deny it. “I’ll see you Monday.”

With that, he detaches himself from you, slipping out the front door and leaving you alone. The moment the door closes behind him, you already miss him, wishing he would have stayed a little bit longer. How the _hell_ are you going to be able to do your job normally after this?


	2. Homecoming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After discovering where you live, Max is determined to get you out of there one way or another. When your stubbornness has you returning home on a night you really shouldn’t, all hell breaks loose. Will Max make it in time to save you?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Food mention, alcohol mention, blood mention, death mention, Max is an ass, but also kinda nice (and maybe a bit ooc???)? mentions of sex, swearing, lots of inuendo

Max lingers in the apartment complex longer than he should, taking in every feature he can of the place. He’d heard stories of the coven here, ruthless vamps that make the stories of Dracula look like a children’s book. They were brutal and sadistic, enjoying playing with their food as much as eating it. And now you, the one person he’s managed to have any sort of care for beyond a one night stand in the past fifteen years has managed to end up right in the middle of it, seemingly totally unawares. He needs to get you out of here, preferably without shattering your entire perception of reality.

Vampires are a relatively new phenomenon as far as being in the public eye, only having become known as reality in the past year or so. It’s a very few cities who have actively out populations, the fear surrounding them very real, and unless you lived in the town for a long time, it is unlikely you’ve even heard that vampires are, in fact, more than the cult of kids down the street who decided to file their teeth one day. 

Most of the ideas around vampires are false, of course. Superstitions brought from another time. Archaic ideas that cause more of nuisance than anything. Burning up in the sun is one such thing. Most vampires don’t have an issue, especially the older they get. A good pair of polarized sunglasses and some sunscreen usually took care of the sensitivity. They can also eat human food, though they gain nothing from it, save a sense of nostalgia for a life they can no longer lead. And it’s for these reasons in particular that vampires blend so well in with the humans they live among. It’s how places like Nueva Pointe can thrive with the humans none the wiser. Humans like you.

Max grits his teeth as he passes one particular room. The smell of living humans seeps from under the door, mingled with the putrid smell of vampire venom and death. It must be where the thralls are kept, awaiting to feed their masters or man the front desk to hold up the illusion of normalcy. The very thought of you having such a glazed over look on your face as the poor girl at the front desk causes a deep seated rage to bloom in Max’s stomach. The urge to rip every single vamp in the place apart is nearly overwhelming, but he knows he can’t, not alone. He’d be taken down in an instant and he knows it. No, this is a game he must play smartly.

“You lost, buddy?” Max looks over his shoulder to see another male vampire standing in the doorway across from the thralls’ room. “You ain’t a part of this coven.”

“I was just on my way out.” He plays it cool, not wanting to start anything.

“Yeah, you do that. Don’t let me catch you lingering ‘round here anymore. I’m sure you don’t want the trouble.” The other vamp snarls, Max returning it as he walks away, flashing his fangs.

“Like I said,” his voice drips with venom, “I was on my way out.”

Maybe 22 days was too long to wait. He’d need to act faster, for your safety as much as his own.

Sunday night, you get next to no sleep, the thought of Max coming to get you making you anxious. The man had filled your dreams Saturday night, leaving you embarrassed and flustered Sunday morning. You aren’t sure you could face your boss if you ended up having a similar dream the night before he picks you up. The music being louder than normal Sunday night certainly didn’t help the sleep delima, either. Every night it seems just a little bit louder, a little more inside your head, and it’s starting to wear on you.

True to his word, there is a knock on your door Monday morning at 6:35 sharp. You grab your purse, dressed in the same getup you’ve worn since your interview before opening the door to smile at your boss, now dressed much more classily than when he found you in his bathroom Saturday. The black suit with the red tie accent really fits him. Red’s his color, you think.

“Goodmorning, Max,” You offer sweetly, locking the door behind you. Max’s hand moves to the small of your back again, guiding your through the building.

“Morning sweetcheeks! Ready to get that rumor mill started?” He waggles his eyebrows at you and you resist the urge to smack him.

“I swear if they do, I’m ending this and I’ll find my own way to work.” You try to keep your tone light and playful, but Max can hear the nervousness lacing your words. You don’t want that. You don’t want to have to face this apartment alone again.

“It’ll be fine. Besides, if they start, I’ll just fuck you over my desk. Nothing stops a rumor like the rumors being true.” He chuckles and this time you _do_ smack him, and for a moment you forget that you’re in a rather creepy apartment complex. That is, until you see the figures looming in the lobby around that same new girl you saw when you got home on Saturday. Max’s arm tightens around you as the three sets of eyes all fall on you. It feels almost… possessive as he glares down the three behind the desk with the girl. Two lean together, whispering between each other and Max’s pace picks up, ushering you quickly out of the building. 20 more days would definitely be too long. Shit.

His hand doesn’t leave the small of your back until you’re securely in the car, him sliding in the driver’s side a moment later before tearing out of the parking lot. You chew your lip for a moment, your thoughts racing. “Max…,” you begin, unsure how to voice your thoughts without sounding crazy. When he hums in acknowledgment, you take a breath to steady yourself before continuing. “I’m worried about the girls at the front desk.”

His eyes dart to you before back to the road. “And why’s that, sweets?”

“They all look so… hazy all the time. Like they’re high or something. And those creepy guys are always lingering around them. I’m worried they’re doing something to the girls.” Max’s grip tightens on the steering wheel as you talk. “It’s baseless, I know, but I just have a really bad feeling, is all.” When Max doesn’t reply right away with some senseless, snarky comment, you grow worried, looking back at him. He looks… pensive. Like he’s trying to figure out what to say to you. He must think better of it, simply shaking his head.

“I’m sure they’re fine,” comes his casual reply, and it feels so dismissive that it actually deflates you and you look away in embarrassment.

You were right, of course, but high barely scratches the surface of what those girls are going through. But he can’t tell you that. Not yet, at least. Not until he’s acclimated you to the world of vampires. Acclimated you to the fact that he too is one of those vampires that you don’t even realize he’s trying to save you from. He hates how defeated you look, like someone had kicked your puppy, but he can’t risk you panicking and trying to run. They would just follow you and drag you back to the coven, and then he truly wouldn’t be able to save you.

When the two of you reach the office, it’s like night and day. The quiet, contemplative attitude replaced by his chipper, condescending frat boy persona as he greets his employees. “Remember, toots, I need those schedules by lunchtime.” He points at you, throwing you a wink before heading to his office, you heading to yours. It’s all an act, you remember. Well, most of it, anyways. A false bravado, a persona he uses when he wants to be seen as in control. And it _works_. So much so that it’s almost hard for you to reconcile that this man is the same one who took care of you Friday night into Saturday morning. This will take some getting used to, if this stark contrast is to continue whenever the elevator doors open.

The days continue, the week wearing on with Max taking you home, only to pick you up the next morning like clockwork. And for this, you’re grateful. The feeling of being watched whenever you’re alone has only gotten stronger, and the music has only gotten more invasive, to the point where it’s nearly impossible to sleep. Come Friday, the bags under your eyes are dark, your smile tired as Max greets you in the morning. The confident smirk immediately falls from his face when he sees how… beaten down you look.

“Sweetcheeks? What’s going on? You look like death. And trust me, I would know.” You laugh humorlessly at his comment, locking your door before he places his hand on the small of your back, a feeling you’ve come to greatly enjoy.

“I’m fine. Just haven’t been sleeping well, is all.” You cling to your purse strap, the hairs on the back of your neck standing on end as you reach the end of the hall, waiting on the elevator. Hesitantly, you glance back over your shoulder only to see the stranger from across the hall leaning against his doorway, watching you like a lion stalking its prey. You swallow thickly, Max taking note before glancing back, catching the eye of the stranger. He can’t help it, reacting on instinct. He pulls you closer, a _growl_ bubbling up from his chest that leaves you staring at him wide-eyed. The stranger only smirks before disappearing into his room, the door closing behind him. Max doesn’t speak the rest of the way to the office, and, quite frankly, you’re too intimidated to start the conversation.

His mannerisms don’t change today, instead storming past the communal office before slamming his door hard enough to shake one of the pictures from the wall, the glass shattering all over the floor. The room falls silent, all eyes drifting to you as you stand mouth agape by the elevator. “I… I’ll clean that up,” you manage to croak out, all but running to your desk to drop your bag before seeking out a broom and dustpan.

It’s not your first time cleaning up glass, you can handle this. And for the most part you do. That is, until you stupidly reach for one of the larger pieces to put it in the trash, slitting open your palm in the process. You swear, hopping to your feet to run to the restroom and clean it. A hiss passes through your lips at the sting of the water against the cut, the water running red down the drain. Great, so this is how today is going to go. Thankfully, there’s a medkit in the bathroom, and you’re able to patch yourself up with some butterfly bandages and some gauze and tape. It hurts like hell, but it’ll do. After all, you can’t afford to fall behind, even if today is your first payday.

The day goes on mostly as usual, save for the fact that Max never once comes to bother you when he’d normally be harassing you about _something_ every hour or so. Come 4:45, when you drop the last round of papers for the day on Max’s desk for his John Hancock, it’s your first interaction since getting in his car this morning.

“Shut the door for a moment, sweets,” he mumbles as he leafs through the pages. Confused, you do as asked, shutting the door before coming back over to his desk.

“Is something wrong?” You’re nervous, wondering if there was something you had forgotten to do earlier today, jogging through your mental notes for the day. Or maybe it was your comment this morning that put him in a bad mood. 

“In a manner of speaking.” He sets his papers down, kicking his feet up on the desk. “You aren’t going back to your apartment tonight.” He folds his hands over his stomach, looking up at you with a lazy smirk on his face.

You bristle at his brazenness. It’s one thing for him to ask you over, or to ask about walking you to your door, it’s another thing _entirely_ for him to declare that you can’t go back to _your_ home that _you’re_ paying for, even if the place did freak you out. You aren’t a child. “Excuse me?”

“You’re coming home with me tonight.” It’s a statement of fact, like he doesn’t expect you to argue. Under any other condition, you might be thrilled that your handsome boss was willing to have you over again, but after not talking to you all day and slitting your hand open this morning. You are in absolutely no mood to play this game.

“I most certainly am not.” You cross your arms over your chest, glaring at him from across his desk. “I have a perfectly good home, and I have every intention of going back to it tonight. Whether or not you’re willing to walk me to the door.”

A muscle in Max’s jaw ticks. He’s been on edge all day since he saw your neighbor watching you with very clear intent in his eyes. And now the smell of your blood is even stronger since you sliced your hand open earlier. Walking into an apartment infested with vampires with next to no control would be a death sentence for you, the only real protection being your own entryway. Even then, the thralls could still get to you, not bound to the same supernatural laws as their undead masters. Even with him walking you in, it would be dicey. The moment stretches on as you stare him down until he relents with a sigh.

“Fine, I’ll walk you home as usual.” He drops his feet to the floor, standing up and grabbing his keys. 4:50. He should have time to make it to your place before the sun dipped behind the horizon. Curse this time of year and its short days. “Go get your things. We’re leaving.”

“But it’s not-”

“I don’t care. It’s close enough. Hurry up.” His brusk tone concerns you, but you decide not to argue, going and getting your things only to find him waiting for you at the elevator, the door sliding open just as you make it to his side.

“Why are you in such a rush?” you ask, almost needing to jog to keep up with him.

“To get you home before sunset.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I don’t expect you to.” His tone is short and irritated and at the comment, you shut down. You aren’t sure _what_ you did to piss Max off, but the normally kind and playful, albeit perverted man you’ve come to know over the past week is seemingly nowhere to be found today. So you shut up, refusing to talk the whole ride home as you pick at your skirt. You can feel the emotions radiating off of Max in waves, and the tension in the car borders on suffocating to the point you’re almost thankful when you make it to the apartment and can get out. Almost. Even still, regardless of the tension, he’s at your side, wrapping his arm around your rather than simply resting his hand on the small of your back.

Something is different this time as you cross the threshold to the lobby. The complex hums with some sort of energy, buzzing in the back of your mind and causing the hairs on your neck to stand up. Max must feel it too, his grip on your waist growing tighter as he all but runs down your hall with you, crowding around you as you open your door as if to block you from sight. This is normally where you would say goodnight, but tonight, he follows you in, shutting and locking the door behind him. You eye him, confused and concerned at his out of character behavior.

“Listen to me,” he implores lowly, taking your hand. “Do not, under any circumstances, open that door until I come to pick you up Monday morning. Do you understand?”

“No, Max, I really don’t. What’s gotten into you? You’ve been acting weird all day.” You tug your hand away, taking a step back and Max sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. He can hear the apartment coming to life, hushed whispers commenting on the sweet smell coming from your room reaching his ears only serving to increase his agitation. “Max?”

“It’s dangerous here, sweetcheeks. More dangerous than you could ever possibly imagine.” He drops his hand, looking at you with those warm chocolate brown eyes that you remember watching over you the night he brought you drunk back to his place. For a moment, you waver, until you remember just how he’s treated you all day, stealing your resolve.

“Everywhere is dangerous, Max. You can go now.” Your tone is cold, and his stilled heart aches in his chest at it. He prefers the kind, jovial tone you normally have with him, but the anxiety he’s feeling knowing what he’s about to leave you with has his own tone equally clipped. He can’t blame you for your venomous reaction. 

“Give me your phone, first.”

“What, why?” Your brow furrows as you look down at his outstretched hand.

“So I can put my number in it in case you need me this weekend.”

“Why would I possibly need….” Your voice trails off as you look up at him, noting the concern shining through the rough exterior, and you sigh, pulling your phone out and handing it off to him. He jots his contact info down, pressing call to get your number in his phone as well before handing it back.

“Just… be safe this weekend. Please.” He stuffs his hands back in his pockets, looking down at you in such a way that you can only nod in agreement.

“Yeah…. I’ll see you Monday, Max.”

“Monday,” he agrees, once more letting himself out of your apartment, the deadbolt sliding home behind him. The murmurs that fill the halls are getting louder, doors opening as he passes them, curious eyes glaring from the dark apartments. He can’t believe he’s leaving you here, his stomach clenching at the thought.

“Thought I told you to get lost, buddy.” Max closes his eyes and sighs at the sound of the vamp that confronted him last week. “Lemme guess, just on your way out?”

“Guess I’ve gotten predictable,” Max quips in reply, tossing a glare over his shoulder as his eyes flash yellow for a moment. The other vampire bristles, squaring his shoulders but Max is already making his way through the front door, out to his car. No way he’s going home after that. Not when you could need him at a moment’s notice. 

Back in your apartment, the music has started again, and you swear it sounds like it’s inside your head. Only this time, this time there are words laced in the music, thrumming with the pounding bass. _Come outside. Come say hi. Come here._ Over and over and over again, no matter how hard you hold the pillow over your head. The banging on your door jolts you back to reality, the din of the music fading only slightly as you hear the stranger from across the hall.

“Hey! Bloodbag! Thought I warned you to be careful!” You can hear the sneer in his voice, and your blood turns to ice in your veins. “Open the door!” He yells, pounding on the door again. You whimper, shrinking back from the door as you press yourself into the corner farthest from it. “Bloodbag! I know you’re in there! I could smell you the second you got out of that other vamp’s car!” Vamp? What the hell is he talking about? “Open this _fucking_ door!” His voice changes, the sound two-toned and colder than ice. Your heart races in your chest, panic clenching it. This has all got to be a bad dream, right? Just a bad dream from all of the sleepless nights this week finally catching up to you. 

The din of the music starts up again, loud and painful in your head. The words lacing the rhythm are louder now, entreating you to come outside and you cover your ears, desperate to get it to stop. “GO AWAY!” you shriek, curling in tighter on yourself. And… it does. Everything goes quiet. The pounding stops, the music stops, the voices all stop. The complex is silent as the grave, and that somehow…makes everything so much worse. You scramble to your feet, yanking the suitcases from your closet as you haphazardly shove the necessary items into it. You need to get out of here. You need to go somewhere, _anywhere_. Shaking your head, you decide to forfeit the clothes, instead only gathering the essentials that you can cram into your purse.

That’s when the voices start again. Whisper of your name, soft and gentle as a lullaby begging you to open the door. Everything will be fine, we just want to say hi. Won’t you come _say hi to us? We’ve waited so long to meet you. Please come out…_

You let out a whimper as the words worm their way through your mind. Your packing freezes for a moment, the urge to open the door nearly overwhelming until Max’s voice clears the fog. _Do not, under any circumstances, open that door._ Max…. Oh God, you should have listened to Max. You… You can call him. He’ll come get you. You whip out your phone, pulling up your recents to return his call. You need to get out of here _now_.

The voices keep growing louder, as much inside your head as they are outside your door. “C’mon 312. Let us in. We just wanna meet you.” It’s that stranger’s voice still, coaxing you more gently this time, like you’re some sort of scared animal. “312….” That two-tone is still there, and you swallow thickly as you press call with a shaky hand, Max answering almost immediately, your name in a panicked voice on his lips.

“Help,” is all you manage to whimper out before the banging starts again, the voices growing louder and more demanding, tearing a sob from your lips as the tears you hadn’t even realized had gathered in your eyes spill down your cheeks. “Please help me.”

“I’m coming, sweetness. Do not open that door.” You can hear the whoosh of wind from the other end of the line, your shaking hand barely holding the phone until a bang loud enough to cause the door to groan on its hinges sends it flying when you jump in terror. You let out another sob, clamping your hands over your ears as the banging comes constantly, the voices screaming at you to come out.

And then, as suddenly as the banging started, it stops, the sounds of inhuman snarling and screaming filling the air instead. The crashes outside have your heart in your throat as you scramble to grab your phone, the crashes echoing through the earpiece as well. This could only mean that Max is out there in the thick of the chaos. Out there with whatever it was screaming at you to come out. 

Things eventually quiet down, the screaming stopping until there is only the dull thudding of music in the back of your mind paired with the sound of footsteps above your head. 

“Sweetcheeks, I’m here. It’s Max, I’m at the door. Come on, I’m taking you home.” You scramble to grab your purse, yanking the door open to see Max still in his work clothes and absolutely covered in blood, head to toe. A scream tears from your lips at the sight and he quickly silences you, covering your mouth with a hand as his other arm wraps around your waist so you can’t run from him. Your heart is hammering in your chest and he wishes with every fiber of his being that you didn’t need to see him like this. That you didn’t need to see any of this. 

“It’s me, it’s Max. I’m not going to hurt you, I promise. But we need to get out of here. Do you trust me?” He watches your eyes, hand still covering your mouth and he absolutely _hates_ how disoriented you look. How scared as you tremble in his grasp. “Please, sweetness, I need you to nod if you trust me.” You can hear commotion in other parts of the complex, fear seizing your heart as you nod harshly. “Close your eyes,” he commands, and without question you do, feeling him pick you up effortlessly as soon as your eyes are closed. “Good girl, keep them shut.”

Suddenly, the air is whooshing past you, a gasp tearing from your lips at the feeling as you cling tighter to him. “I’ve got you,” he coos, covering up the sounds of the screams and wails that follow the both of you, dissonant and inhuman. The coppery smell of blood has your stomach in knots, and the feeling of it soaking through your shirt as you cling to Max has the tears running fresh down your cheeks. No, this isn’t some nightmare. This is so much worse. 

The air changes, no longer the warm, slightly stuffy air of the complex, but rather the cool air of the outside. It causes you to lift your head, very nearly opening your eyes until Max reminds you not to, holding your head back in place against his shoulder. It’s only when the rush of air past you suddenly stops, followed by the sound of a door opening and closing that he tells you to open your eyes. When you do, you’re met with the familiar sight of Max’s house, warm and neat and _safe_. But he doesn’t set you down, walking with you in his arms back to his bathroom before carefully setting you on the edge of the tub, detaching your arms from around his neck. He leans back just enough to see your face, looking you over as you sit there, overwhelmed with the night’s happenings.

“Are you hurt?” he whispers, doing his best not to frighten you further. He can smell the adrenaline coursing through your veins, frightened and ready to run as you sit quivering in his grip. When you shake your head no, his shoulders sag in relief. “Thank God.”

“M-Max…,” you whimper, your bottom lip trembling. “W-what… what was….” You can’t even finish the question, the sob in your throat cutting you off.

“Shhhh shhh,” he gently soothes, eyes and voice equally soft as he cups your face in his hands, wincing at the red they leave on your cheeks. “Don’t think about it right now. You need to get cleaned up and rest. I promise, I’ll explain everything to you after you’ve cleaned up and gotten something to eat, okay?”

You want to know now. You so desperately want to know _right now_ what _the fuck_ just happened, but seeing as how you can’t even bring yourself to ask the question, you agree to his terms, sniffling as you nod. “B-But, I have no clothes,” you whimper again, reaching up to grip his wrists. “I…I have nothing….” 

“You can borrow mine again until we can go shopping to get you some more. You’re not setting foot in that place ever again. Clothes can be replaced, you can’t.” His voice is firm, no room for argument so you only nod, sniffling once again. “I’m going to let you shower in here while I go clean up in the other one, okay?” His thumb brushes along your cheekbone and you give him a soft yes which earns you the softest smile you’ve ever seen frat boy Max Phillips give. “Good girl,” he coos, standing up slowly, your eyes following him. He leans in, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead that leaves you a little dizzy at the action before he’s walking out again. “The clothes will be on the bed, sweetness. Call for me when you’re done.” And with that, he’s quietly shutting the door behind himself.

You sit there on the edge of his tub, frozen as your brain desperately tries to process the past hour, but none of the explanations you can come up with make any sense. Instead, they leave you reeling and confused and _exhausted_ to the point where you can barely peel the blood soaked clothes from your body, dropping them into the tub to keep from getting any more blood over Max’s otherwise pristine bathroom. Crawling into the shower, you turn the water up as hot as you can stand it, desperately trying to get it to wash away the horrors of tonight like it washed away your hangover.

You aren’t sure when you started crying, or how long you’ve been curled up in the corner of Max’s shower where there’s a gentle knock on the bathroom door followed by the call of your name. The water has since gone cold, leaving you a shivering, sobbing, but clean mess on the floor of his shower. The door to the bathroom opens when you don’t reply, Max’s worry overwhelming everything when he hears you crying. Were you actually hurt and just refusing to tell him? He calls your name again, slowly opening the glass door of the shower to turn off the water before draping a towel over your shivering figure. “Sweetness, you’ll get sick like this…. Come on, let’s get you dried and dressed.”

You whimper as he hoists you up, doing his best to keep you covered as he carries you back to the bed where a warm change of clothes waits for you. He uses this moment of dressing you to check you for any injuries, any sign that any of those vampires laid so much as a finger on you. Satisfied when he finds nothing, he finishes dressing you before wrapping you in a blanket. “What can I do to help?” he murmurs, this kind of tenderness foreign to him, having acted solely on the instinct of protecting you so far. 

“Stay,” you whisper, looking up at him with desperation in your eyes. “Please just… stay.” He watches you for a moment with a hesitant uncertainty before finally nodding, sitting down on the bed beside you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders to hold you against him. That same scent is there, warm and comforting and rich and why can’t you _place it?_

The longer you lean against him, the more you realize… you can’t hear his heart. You can’t hear his heart, and he moved much, _much_ too quickly earlier. Your heart stutters in your chest, and Max smells the shot of adrenaline pouring into your veins, eyeing you cautiously as you slowly sit up, staring at him with wide eyes.

“Explain.” It’s not a request or a suggestion, and he knows it. He takes a deep breath, running his hand through his tousled, damp hair. A strange look for him, as normally there’s never a strand out of place. 

“What I am about to tell you… I need you to listen to everything. I promise I’ll answer every single one of your questions, but you need to let me explain it all first. Can you do that for me?” He makes no move to get closer to you, staying frozen in place, yet for some reason you wish he’d reach out for you. Instead of asking for that, however, you simply nod. “You said you trust me, is that still true?” The question sounds as if he’s… scared. Scared of the answer you’re going to give him. 

“I do.” His shoulders relax at your affirmation before he sets them again, taking a deep breath. 

“I assume you know about vampires?”

“Like… Dracula?”

He can’t help the gentle chuckle at your reply, nodding. “In a way, yes, because he really was a vampire. But I mean… typical vampires. The ones that exist today.” You blink, your gaze holding thousands of questions. “I’ll take that as a no. Okay… how do I start this?” He looks up to the ceiling, letting out a sigh before looking back to you. “Vampires are real, sweetness. They’re real, and they walk among humans in far larger numbers than any of you humans are prepared to accept.”

You blink once… twice… three times before you open your mouth, the words you want to say dying on your tongue. Before today, if Max had told you this, you would have laughed at him. “What?”

He nods, clasping his hands together as he leans forward to rest his hands on his knees. “That was my first question too, don’t worry. There are a handful of cities that know about us. Cities that vampires have made their presence known in. But they’re few and far between. In most places though, like here for example, they’re still just… stories. Tales used to scare kids on Halloween.”

“You’re being serious….” The realization that this isn’t some elaborate joke weighs heavy on you, and Max hears your heart beginning to beat even faster in your chest as you shift slightly away from him. 

“I am. Take a deep breath for me, okay? I promise, I’m not going to hurt you.” He holds a placating hand out to you, eyes still warm as he watches you.

Closing your eyes, you take a deep breath before looking at him again. “And… and you….” You leave the question hanging, and he nods.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m a vampire, sweetness.”

“B-But you can walk in the sun! A-and you eat human food!” Your mind recoils at the thought that this man sitting beside you looking very much alive is a member of the undead. You don’t want to accept it. It goes against… _everything._ But… but you trust him, and Max has never once lied to you in the two weeks you’ve known him. And… and he did just save you from whatever happened at Nueva Pointe. 

“Tales and legends about vampires have been exaggerated through the centuries. The sun is a little more irritating than when I was human, but nothing sunglasses and sunscreen won’t fix. Human food just doesn’t do anything for me besides let me taste things I like. Garlic causes heartburn. I can’t turn into a bat or fog. The things that are real? Silver burns like hot iron, holy water is basically cyanide, we don’t get sick, we have superhuman speed and have heightened strength and senses, and we can enthrall people with hypnosis.” He watches you nod along, taking the comments as in stride as you can in your currently overwhelmed state. “But those misconceptions are why we can blend in with humans so well. Humans expect obvious monsters. It’s harder when the monsters look and act so much like them.”

“You aren’t a monster,” you’re quick to blurt out, taking both of you by surprise. He raises an eyebrow at you, a heat rushing to your cheeks as you stumble over your words. “You… you saved me. Twice now. You aren’t a monster.” Your voice is more resolute this time as you pull the blanket tighter around yourself, and he offers you a smile at that, shaking his head with a soft chuckle.

“You’re something else, sweetcheeks. Anyways, it’s easy for vamps to hide among the humans, and in some places, massive covens or nests pop up. These places lure humans in to either eat or enslave, and most humans are none the wiser about the goings on. The covens play smart, going for people who have no one to miss them. People who are desperate.”

“People like me,” you whisper, finishing his line of thought and earning a nod from him.

“Exactly. Nueva Pointe is one such place. No deposit, no rent up front… because _you_ are the rent. I’ve been trying to get you out of there since the day you told me you lived there. They have a… ritual, if you will. They play with you for a month, work their way inside your head to drive you mad, then they either eat you, or enthrall you.” The gasp from your lips takes him by surprise, arching an eyebrow at you.

“Those girls….”

Max’s shoulders sag and he nods. “Walking snack machines. And they probably assist in helping bring out the next victims from their rooms. Thralls aren’t bound by the same rules we are since they’re still human. They don’t need to be invited in.”

“That’s why you told me not to open the door….”

“Exactly.”

You look up at Max, exhaustion weighing heavy on you as guilt settles in your stomach. “I should have listened to you,” you whimper, tears springing to your eyes. “I should have gone home with you. You were trying to protect me and I spat it back in your face because of my own stubborn pride.”

“Sweetness, you had no idea.” He reaches out to you, freezing when you flinch before dropping his hand. “I should have told you sooner but… but I didn’t want to ruin your blissful ignorance. I wanted to get you out of there without shattering your reality. It’s a dark world I walk in.” The tears stream down your cheeks as you huddle in as tightly on yourself as you can. “I should have told you….”

He slowly raises his hand again bringing it down to rest on your shoulder and that’s all it takes to break you the rest of the way down. You turn and throw yourself against him, throwing off the blanket and wrapping your arms around him as you cling to him like a lifeline, sobbing into his chest. It takes a moment for Max to respond, but when he does, his arms gently wrap around you, holding you close to him as one hand runs soothingly up and down your back.

“I’m so sorry you had to find out this way, sweetness.” 

The two of you stay like that for a long time, every cry resolidifying his determination to burn that miserable complex to the ground. He glances down at you from time to time, so soft and weak and so very, very human, and his heart aches for you. It aches to know something that it never knew in life. Max has had this warm sensation in his chest whenever he thinks of you almost since the day he met you, and until tonight, he could never place it. Now, he understands. He’s falling for you, hard and fast and there is the very real fear that you won’t be there to catch a monster like him. And that fear is killing him all over again.

Eventually, the exhaustion of the day wins out and you slip into the peaceful arms of slumber, going limp against him. When the gentle snores reach his ears, he carefully rearranges you, laying you down on the bed so you can sleep peacefully. He watches you for a long while, your chest rising and falling with each steady breath, your heart beating steadily in your chest, and he can’t help but marvel at how beautiful you are like this. Here in his bed, in his clothes…. Oh how he wishes it was under better circumstances. That he had seduced you with his confidence and charm. Taken you to dinner before taking you home and making you scream his name before passing out in his bed. Oh how he still desperately wishes for that with you. For that and for so much more. With a soft sigh, he stands, heading to the living room. He needs a distraction, and that new presentation set for Wednesday sounds as good a place as any to start.

He doesn’t stay in the living room long. Less than an hour after you’ve dozed off, the sound of your soft cries reaches his ears, and in the blink of an eye he’s at your bedside, crouching beside you. You’re dreaming, he realizes. A nightmare. Who could blame you after the night you’ve had. He reaches out to shake you awake when his name passes your lips. He freezes, hand hovering just above you as he listens. You whine and whimper in terror before saying his name again, louder and more desperate, and he’s finally had enough. “Sweetness? Hey, sweetness, come on and wake up now. Just a bad dream.” He shakes your shoulder gently and your eyes snap open, the scream of his name hanging on your lips.

It takes a moment, but eventually your eyes focus on him, a single tear tracing down your cheek before you throw your arms around him. “Oh my God. Oh thank God, you’re still here.” His arms slowly wind around you, brow furrowed in confusion.

“What are you talking about sweetcheeks?”

You sniffle against his neck, nuzzling against it as you breathe him in, letting the scent of him ground you for a moment before you pull back. His hand comes to your cheek, wiping away the errant tears. “I had a bad dream.” When you catch his eyes, he’s looking at you with such deep concern that you melt. “I… I had a dream about the apartment and… and I called you and… and you didn’t come for me.” Your lip quivers, trying to forget those horrific sounds and thrumming music. 

Max feels his heart shatter in his chest at how lost you sound, your bottom lip seemingly unable to stop trembling. “It was just a bad dream, sweets. I’ll come whenever you call, I promise.”

“Why?” you question softly. It’s an innocent question, but it holds the weight of the entire world in those three little letters, and the force of them causes him to freeze. You take your bottom lip between your teeth, chewing it nervously as you wait for his answer. Now is his chance. The chance to put that revelation of his into words. The chance to put his heart in your hands and watch as you let it shatter apart before his very eyes.

“Because… Because I care about you, sweetness.”

“Because I’m your employee, I know Max.” Is that… bitterness he hears in your voice? He blinks, taken aback at the response as he curses himself for asserting again and again that what he does for you is because you’re his employee.

“No. No, this has nothing to do with the company. I tried to convince myself that was why I was putting out so much for you… but I can’t keep lying to myself.” His thumb traces your cheekbone again as he murmurs your name. “You gotta understand, I’m _terrible_ with emotions, with relationships and commitment. In college, all I ever had were one night stands, even before I was turned. I even slept with Evan’s girl. Which, coincidentally, is what led eventually to me getting turned into a freaking vampire.” He shakes his head before finding your eyes again. “I’m a firm believer in the fact that if you never hand your heart to anyone, it can never be broken.” That earns him a frown, your brows knitting together. “But… but I want to change that.” He runs a frustrated hand through his hair.

It’s unusual to see him like this. Normally, he has the words for every occasion, but right now, they seem to fail him. “Max,” you whisper, heart pounding in your chest as you try to draw his attention back to you, finding his eyes once more.

“Look, when I hired you, I thought you were smoking hot. Fuck, I still do. That doesn’t matter right now. What matters is… is that the thoughts I’ve had of you over these two weeks have turned from strictly imagining what you would sound like while I railed you on my desk… to what your laugh sounds like or… or the things that might make you smile. Or how I could keep you safe in that God forsaken complex, how I could get you out of there.” His hands find yours and you give them a reassuring squeeze. “I know I’m a vampire, and I know you’ve been through a lot tonight at the hands of other vampires and I don’t wanna add to any of that, but sweetcheeks, I care about you as more than just an employee. A whole lot more. And it took me way too long to figure that out. Even if it was just two weeks.” Max falls quiet after that, waiting for you to make the next move, waiting to watch you drop his heart and let it shatter on his bedroom floor. 

This is Max, you remind yourself as your mind races, trying to absorb all the information he’s just bombarded you with. A confession of vampirism followed right by a love confession has given you emotional whiplash, and while part of you is still terrified of what a world full of vampires means… a much louder part of you wants to know what a world living with Max Phillips will be. Will it meat every fantasy? Will it exceed them? Will it be the home you’ve been looking for all this time? This is Max Phillips, your Max Phillips, the man who saved your life. Vampirism be damned, he’s no different now than he was yesterday. 

When your hand lifts, he’s expecting a slap, but instead he’s met with a tender caress that he can’t help but lean into. At this point, you’re unsure if you’re still dreaming or not, wondering if the fantasies of your boss have worked their way into your adrenaline exhausted brain. “Max… Max, look me in the eyes and tell me that you mean it.” His brow furrows as he looks up at you.

“I don’t understand….”

“Tell me that you mean it. Tell me that you have feelings for me. Tell me that this warmth I have in my chest whenever we’re together isn’t one sided. Tell me that I don’t have unrequited feelings for the man who just saved my life.”

Max can hear your heart rate picking up again and he squeezes your hands in an attempt to calm you down. You called him a man… not a monster. He had just shattered everything you know to be true, and yet you still called him a man. And you have feelings for him too. For a brief moment, he feels dizzy, something he hasn’t felt in years. “Sweetcheeks…. God, I mean it. I mean it with the whole of my cold, dead heart. And _fuck_ am I terrified by it. But the thing I’m even more terrified of… is losing you. Tonight showed me that. Baby girl, I can’t lose you.”

“Then, can you do something for me?”

“Anything.”

“Fucking kiss me already.”

Max absolutely does not need to be told twice, leaning in to press his lips to yours in a gesture of all the words he can’t bring himself to say. All the feelings he can’t bring himself to show just yet.

Your arms wind around his shoulders as your eyes flutter closed, drinking him in as his hand cradles your face gently. It’s so much better than you could have ever dreamed; strong and sweet and passionate. His lips glide over yours like it’s where they’ve always been meant to be and it’s positively addicting.

When you finally pull away, his eyes are glassy, that signature smirk on his face. “So does this mean I can fuck you over my desk now?” Too elated to be offended, you lean back in to press another kiss to his lips, pulling him back down on the bed with you.

“I guess we’ll have to find out, won’t we?” 


End file.
